The rapidity of mobile communication technology development has exceeded all expectations, but significant social and legal implications remain unexamined. Five years ago, the first tidings of discontent surfaced in response to the mobile revolution that was about to sweep through Western society - the public/private dichotomy was becoming blurred, and people were afraid of what technological solidarity would bring.

These warnings were, for the most part, dismised as remanants of the same backward attitude that has previously stunted technological growth. Today, however, the issues have multiplied: hidden camera privacy concerns abound; geographic user tracking is a reality; many phones support out-of-the-box conversation recording; remote interaction is increasingly preferred to face-to-face contact; business can now intrude upon almost any familial situtation; conversations are interrupted to start new ones (which often drop out, anyway). How ironic, then, is the fact that the technology that promised to bring us closer together has instead produced widespread isolation and mechanised what were previously genuine interactions.

Just yesterday, on the train, I saw a group of teenagers (only a few years younger than myself), heads downturned, fingers stabbing wildly at tiny buttons on their mobile phones, their intense stare illuminated by the diffuse glow of an active-matrix display. For some reason, I found this quite a bizzare sight - a collectivity on completely different worlds. Well, at least the train was quiet (excepting the blips and drones of the games they were playing, the tat-a-tat-tat of several other businesspeople typing SMS messages to their friends/colleagues/boss/babysitter, and the occaisional ring tone more reminiscent of an 8-bit video game than the latest Top 40 trash).

What's most interesting is that people (certainly not those my age) don't seem at all perturbed (thankyou John) by this; at any rate, annoyance doesn't seem to reach the point of actually driving one to switch off one's phone or (heaven, forbid!) find creative ways to amuse oneself. Forgive this rare display of antidiluvian disillusionment; no doubt, tomorrow, I will be playing snake as avidly as the next person. But it is certainly worth noting (at least in a non-critical, reflective way), that people are submissive to a new social norm of connectivity - to abstain from participation in a communication network is itself to send a message, one which is perceived as more anti-social than extracting oneself from any real personal interaction in order to answer an incoming call!

This photojournalism piece highlights some of the changes undergoing many aspects of Japanese culture, and is a rather insightful look at how mobile phones have permeated many previously isolated social contexts. Though Australian mobile phone usage pales in comparison to that at the epicentre of portable technology, Japan has been a fair indication of what Australia can expect 18 months down the track. As strange as it sounds to hear a 19-year-old caricature of the netizen marketing stereotype say this, I don't like what I see.

During lectures yesterday, no less than 7 phones rang. As amusing as the colourful flashing lights and chirping renditions of 80s pop songs were, these absentminded twits disrupted the entire lecture. One person even had the nerve to answer the call! But far from repudiating such behaviour, it has become blas�, a near certainty that in a given class/lecture/tutorial, someone will forget (or, in contumelious disregard for their fellow students, deliberately choose not) to disable their incoming call alert. Perhaps worse still, those that do answer their phones don't seem to realise that they've done anything wrong. Indeed, in the eyes of most students, they probably haven't. Nevermind the fact that it's reprehensable disrespectful (and above all, frustrating) to the lecturer and other students. Mobile etiquitte is sorely lacking, though this may be able to be remedied by liberal defenestration. </rant>

I've often wondered just why mobile phones are so attractive as social accessories. Personalisation is probably an element; manufacturers certainly exploit the desire for individualism by allowing their phones to be extensively customised. The phone becomes an extension of its owner. When a phone rings with a notable ring tone, it has the effect of making its owner the centre of attention. In this sense, mobile phones are devices of power, and are increasingly iconified as a symbol of status or authority. Though mobile phones are undoubtedly useful devices, the exesses of teenage mobile culture appear to be a manifestation of egocentric tendancies. Or perhaps this writer just has phone-envy.